


mea culpa

by inkin_brushes



Series: Immortals (Vamp AU) [45]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6283195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkin_brushes/pseuds/inkin_brushes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanghyuk was also unsurprised that, when he poked his head into Jaehwan’s room, Jaehwan was still in bed, huddled under his blanket. “Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said, not whispering but not calling out either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mea culpa

  
Sanghyuk had been at work for two hours and thus far not even managed to get through half of the stack of paperwork that had been plopped on his desk. He kept zoning out, pen slowing and then stilling until the ink bled through the paper.   
  
“Fuck,” he muttered, putting his pen down so he could scrub at his face. His files looked very spotty, at this point. He hoped whoever processed them would be able to read his handwriting. If asked, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to even recount the bullshit he’d written.   
  
He simultaneously wished they’d put him out in the field tonight and yet was also glad they hadn’t.  
  
Just as he had that thought, the conquering heroes, Ilhoon and Hyunsik, came into the office. Their faces were tinted pink from the cold outside, the pale blond of Ilhoon’s hair making him look especially ruddy.   
  
“Hey,” Hyunsik said to Sanghyuk, passing him by with a smile as he went to fetch fresh paperwork for their nightly report. Ilhoon came up behind Sanghyuk and pressed icy fingers to the back of Sanghyuk’s neck.   
  
Sanghyuk yelped, jerking so he bumped his knee on the underside of his desk. He turned and punched Ilhoon in the side, muttering, “Jerk.”  
  
“Bitch,” Ilhoon retorted cheerfully. He leaned against the edge of Sanghyuk’s desk, tilting his head as he gave Sanghyuk a once over. “You look like shit. Still not feeling better?”  
  
Sanghyuk had called out with a headache last night, since he couldn’t very well call out from having to make sure his vampire ex-fuckbuddy didn’t cry himself into a raisin. “You could say that.”  
  
“Headache?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sanghyuk began, but caught the look Ilhoon was giving him. “I— he is kind of the embodiment of a headache, I guess.”  
  
Ilhoon’s eyes were knowing. “You’re going to have to tell me what happened, at some point,” he said in a very low murmur, because Hyunsik had returned with the paperwork and was settling down at his desk beside Sanghyuk’s.  
  
“The sorcerer left,” Hyunsik said idly, sorting the papers into two piles, presumably one for Ilhoon and the other for himself.  
  
“About a half hour ago,” Sanghyuk said, sliding his eyes away from Ilhoon, who pushed off from his desk to go hover over Hyunsik. “I don’t think he had any results, because the Dragon was pretty irate after he left.”  
  
“We knew he was useless, they should have gotten a better sorcerer. I don’t know why Kris likes that one so much,” Ilhoon said. He grumbled when Hyunsik handed him a small packet of papers. “Minhyuk got a tat from him and it barely even worked, he had to go get it redone.”  
  
Sanghyuk gave a one-shouldered shrug. They’d have to figure something out, though the urgency was falling, since there’d been no new attacks of late. “Your patrol have anything exciting?”  
  
“We thought we found a dead body, but it was just a really drunk dude in a clown suit. Like, an actual clown suit,” Ilhoon said. “We tried to like, prop him up and get him to a restaurant down the street, but he was too smashed. I mean, if I was a clown, I’d probably be getting really drunk after work too, because fuck that, but you don’t need to die by vampire for it.”  
  
Sanghyuk stared, too out of it to tell if Ilhoon was joking or not.   
  
Ilhoon sighed in exasperation, hands on his hips. “No, there was nothing exciting.” He tossed his packet of papers down onto his desk. “You need to take care of that headache, you’re no fun.”  
  
“I’m beginning to think it’s a tumor,” Sanghyuk said, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes.  
  
——  
  
For the second time in as many days, when Wonshik and Hongbin stepped into their home, the scent of human, of Sanghyuk, was faint in the air.   
  
Wonshik tipped his head up, sniffing. “Is it fresh?” he murmured, as Hongbin shut the front door behind them. “I can’t tell if it’s residual from last night or not.”  
  
“No, he was here,” Hongbin replied, equally soft, “but I don’t think he’s still here.” Wonshik swallowed, mouth twisting. “What is it?”  
  
“I feel bad,” Wonshik said. He led the way down the hall, making for the kitchen. “I didn’t want to drag him back into this.”  
  
“I didn’t either,” Hongbin said, “but we didn’t have a choice. We couldn’t let Jaehwan— well, I guess he wouldn’t have died, but we couldn’t leave him to waste away.”  
  
“I know,” Wonshik muttered, feeling as if there was a weight on his shoulders. It was true, they’d had to do it, though that could only soothe Wonshik’s guilty conscience so much.   
  
“Maybe now that Sanghyuk has been here a couple of times, we could get Jaehwan to—” Hongbin broke off with a snap, halting, and Wonshik froze. Jaehwan was leaned up against the counter in the kitchen. He’d showered, his hair unstyled but clean, fanning over his forehead softly, and he was in his own clothes, freshly laundered. He hadn’t buttoned the shirt all the way up, and it wasn’t tucked in, but it was a start.   
  
“Get Jaehwan to what?” Jaehwan asked softly, a hint of a knife edge there, but not nearly as sharp as he’d been previously. He seemed tired. There was still residual blood just under his lower lashline, that he had been unable to scrub off, and he looked gaunt, frail in a very misleading way.  
  
Wonshik swallowed and sensed Hongbin squaring himself. “Eat,” Hongbin said simply. “Go hunting. The blood bags won’t be enough to replenish you fully, and we didn’t think Sanghyuk—” Hongbin cut himself off, like mentioning Sanghyuk might send Jaehwan into a fit.  
  
“Didn’t think Sanghyuk would let me feed off him?” Jaehwan tapped the counter, nails against the marble. Wonshik nodded shortly, and Jaehwan— Wonshik couldn’t decipher the expression on his face. “He did, actually, but only a little. And I wouldn’t be able to take enough off him to replenish myself fully anyway. Not in one sitting, and I don’t want to hurt him.”  
  
 _Not any more than you already have_ , Wonshik thought, but didn’t dare say. He knew Jaehwan was hurting too. He also knew the vulnerability around Jaehwan right now would soften Sanghyuk in a way not much else would. But he was still surprised Sanghyuk had let Jaehwan feed from him, even now. The kid really was a bleeding heart, and Wonshik was afraid they’d pushed him right back into a shark tank.   
  
Jaehwan shoved off from the counter, facing them fully. He sort of— settled into himself, spine straightening, chin raising in a ghost of his usually haughty aura. Wonshik could almost see him pulling his pieces back into place. “I assume he told you— he told you,” Jaehwan said, clearly trying to sound airy and cocky but falling far short. There was a slight tremor in his voice. “I assume you all had a nice laugh behind my back.”  
  
“We’re not you, Jaehwan,” Hongbin said, softly. “I think you need to stop assuming everyone is, to be honest. We don’t hold the views you do. We don’t see the shame in the things you seem to.”  
  
Jaehwan’s face twisted, his hands curling into fists at his side as he looked away. “Wonshik wanted this to happen,” he whispered, and Wonshik jolted. “He said he wanted me to fall in love and for it to break my heart.”  
  
Hongbin was frowning. “I don’t remember this,” he muttered, and for a second, Wonshik didn’t either, but then it clicked.  
  
“It was— was before you came to,” Wonshik said, the memory coming back in fragments. He and Jaehwan been fighting. Or arguing, rather, because Jaehwan had been being an insensitive, heartless asshole. “Jaehwan, you have to know I— I didn’t want _this_ , and that I wouldn’t like seeing you in such pain.”  
  
Jaehwan was scowling angrily at the floor. “Then why say it.”  
  
“Why do you say half the shit that you do?” Wonshik retorted. “I just wanted you to stop sneering at me, stop looking down on me, on us, like you seem to think we’ve been doing to you. I was in a lot of pain and you were very derisive, Jaehwan. Don’t you remember? I think you understand, more, now. And you’re basically afraid of me treating you the way you’ve treated us.”  
  
Jaehwan picked at the edge of his shirt sleeve, still glaring holes into the floor. “I was derisive because you were pathetic.” He finally looked up then, eyes glittering. “And now it is my turn.”  
  
“I don’t think you’re pathetic, Jaehwan,” Hongbin said, tentative and soft, an offering. “You’re in love.” Jaehwan recoiled, actually recoiled, jerking and hugging himself, looking away again. “Sanghyuk told us, yes, but we knew already. We watched you fall. I— I’d hoped something good would come of it.”  
  
Jaehwan shook his head, his hair fanning over his eyes. “It is too late for me and Sanghyuk,” he murmured. “I was— well, me— and I’ve hurt him. He has told me flat out he cannot, will not, love me back. I really cut off my own nose to spite my face in regards to him. I— I regret it. It is one more drop in the bucket, I suppose. I have a— a lot of regrets—” He cut himself off because his voice had gone high and thick, and for a horrible moment, Wonshik thought he was going to begin crying again.  
  
There was silence, as Jaehwan grit his teeth, knuckles white with how tightly he was fisting his hands. But he pulled himself back together enough to whisper, “Sanghyuk has agreed this situation— it needs dealing with. He is going to help me sort it out, sort myself out. And maybe once I do I will be able to pick through myself and fall out of love.” He looked up and grinned. It was unbearably brittle. “That would be ideal, for all parties involved. So perhaps Crazy is right and something good may come of this.”  
  
 _Sanghyuk_ , Wonshik thought, just as Hongbin whispered, “Jaehwan.”  
  
Jaehwan simply shook his head again. “I am pathetic, I know, and I do not desire your pity. In fact, I would prefer it if we did not speak of this anymore, or again, for that matter.” He ran his hand through his hair, inhaled deeply, seemingly to calm himself. Then he was standing up straight once more, his pieces falling back together. “You are right, I do need to feed. I— it is too late, now, dawn is soon. But tomorrow I will do so, and I will also see about fetching more blood bags as we are critically low.” His voice was brusque, and he stepped past them swiftly, taking a great deal of care not to touch them as he did so. “Can’t let my children starve after all.”  
  
Wonshik held back an exasperated sigh, but beside him Hongbin had an odd look in his eyes. It was almost— triumphant. “Thanks,” Wonshik muttered.  
  
Jaehwan stopped in the archway of the kitchen, his hand resting against the wall and for a moment Wonshik was afraid Jaehwan was going to berate him for being an ungrateful son, as he’d done in the past. Instead, Jaehwan murmured without turning around, “I’m sorry, Wonshik. I do understand, now. I should not have treated you as I did.”  
  
Wonshik would have been less surprised if Jaehwan had hit him upside the head with a sloth, and so he couldn’t gather his wits enough to reply before Jaehwan was gone. The sound of Jaehwan’s footsteps faded off once he was through the living room and into the hallway, and the ringing silence left behind was loud in its own right.  
  
“Did he just— apologize?” Wonshik asked Hongbin disbelievingly. “like, with no caveats and no _but it was sort of your fault too_ s?”  
  
“He did,” Hongbin said, eyes trained on where Jaehwan had disappeared, that strange victoriousness still shining behind his eyes. “He did.”  
  
Wonshik, too, turned to look at the spot Jaehwan had just been. “What the fuck did Sanghyuk _say_ to him.”  
  
——  
  
“What did you say to him?” Hakyeon asked, sitting at Sanghyuk’s kitchen table, hands folded primly atop the fake wood.   
  
Sanghyuk spooned hot cocoa mix into his mug of milk, stirring idly. “I don’t really remember specifics,” he said honestly. “I wasn’t— in the best place, mentally, I just knew I needed to get through to him.”  
  
He took his mug back to the table, sitting across from Hakyeon, who watched him with a slightly unnerving intensity. Hakyeon had been waiting at his table for him when he’d gotten home from work, wanting to check in on him, see how he was doing. Sanghyuk appreciated the thought, but right now just wanted to go to bed. He’d had to deal with Jaehwan just a few hours ago, but dawn was soon, so Hakyeon would not stay long.  
  
“Did you?” Hakyeon asked. “Get through to him?”  
  
“I think so,” Sanghyuk said tiredly. “He said he— he was going to try and fix this, learn to cope with all the shit he’s been repressing. I promised to help, to listen. I would have rather he, you know, talked with Wonshik or Hongbin, but I think he’s barely okay even showing me his vulnerabilities. If someone is going to draw the poison out of him, it is going to have to be me.” His voice was tired.  
  
“I am surprised he even agreed to try and work through things,” Hakyeon said softly.  
  
“I think he’s finally in so much pain he can’t put it off any longer,” Sanghyuk murmured, then took a sip of his cocoa. “He has finally been broken enough to want to mend himself.”  
  
Hakyeon’s mouth twisted. “It is all his own doing.”  
  
“Some, yes, but not all,” Sanghyuk muttered. “We’ll see, I suppose. I am not keen having to basically be his therapist, but— I am hopeful. Hopeful that he will change, maybe.”  
  
“And if he does?” Hakyeon asked softly, eyes unreadable.  
  
“Then I will have some peace, and maybe he and I will be able to be friends,” Sanghyuk said with a brittle smile. “And you and him, and Taekwoon maybe too.” Wouldn’t that be ideal, wasn’t that just the _dream_.  
  
Hakyeon was making a face and Sanghyuk laughed.   
  
——  
  
The door closed behind him with a soft click, and Hakyeon toed his shoes off. Before he could take two steps, Taekwoon was there, grasping his face softly and kissing him. Hakyeon put his hands over Taekwoon’s lightly, tipping his face up and letting his eyelids flutter shut.  
  
“You cut it close,” Taekwoon whispered when he pulled away.   
  
Hakyeon was aware. Even now he could feel the oncoming down weighing him down. “I’m sorry, I got caught up.”  
  
Taekwoon stroked his thumb across Hakyeon’s cheekbone. “Sanghyuk is well?”  
  
“As well as he can be,” Hakyeon said, pulling away and going into the apartment proper to change into his pajamas before he was too tired to do so.   
  
“He got Jaehwan to feed?” Taekwoon asked, following him. He watched Hakyeon strip down, blinking slowly.  
  
“Yeah,” Hakyeon said. He pulled his sleep shirt on over his head, and once it was settled on him he added, “Sanghyuk said that Jaehwan— he agreed to work on his shitty attitude, that he promised to try and sort through all the shit he has going on.” Hakyeon’s nose wrinkled. “Whatever that means.”  
  
“That is... surprising,” Taekwoon said. “But I suppose, so is how hard he fell for Sanghyuk.”  
  
Hakyeon grunted, slipping into bed and flipping the covers back so Taekwoon could climb in behind him. Sleep was tugging at him as the sun rose outside, and he was getting correspondingly grumpy. “He asked Sanghyuk to help him,” he grumbled.   
  
Taekwoon slid into bed beside him, eyebrow arched. “He did?”  
  
“Mm,” Hakyeon said. “He wants to— I don’t know, Sanghyuk said they were going to be going over everything Jaehwan has been repressing.”  
  
Taekwoon was quiet, and Hakyeon snuggled in against him, pillowing his head against Taekwoon’s chest so that when Taekwoon spoke again, Hakyeon could feel the vibrations.  
  
“Jaehwan confessed his feelings for Sanghyuk,” Taekwoon murmured, “perhaps they think if he confesses the rest he will be able to— move on, quit carrying it around him like a rock and maybe stop being such a dreadful bastard.”  
  
“What on earth does Jaehwan have to confess?” Hakyeon mumbled.   
  
“His sins,” Taekwoon whispered, “his regrets, his fears.”  
  
“He has those?”  
  
“Yes.” Taekwoon ran his hand over Hakyeon’s head, smoothing his hair down. “The trick will be getting him to admit to them.” He looked above Hakyeon, eyes focused far away. “All of them.”  
  
“That sounds ominous,” Hakyeon said indistinctly. He couldn’t keep his eyes open any more. “You will elaborate later.”  
  
Taekwoon kissed Hakyeon’s forehead, gently murmuring, “Sleep, darling.”  
  
——  
  
Sanghyuk let himself into Jaehwan’s home. The sun was barely setting, but he wanted to make sure Jaehwan was in, and besides, Sanghyuk had work later. This gave them a bit more time.  
  
He walked swiftly through the halls. None of the residents were up yet, but that didn’t surprise Sanghyuk. It was very early for them.  
  
He was also unsurprised that, when he poked his head into Jaehwan’s room, Jaehwan was still in bed, huddled under his blanket. “Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said, not whispering but not calling out either.  
  
Jaehwan shifted, looking up blearily. His hair was sticking up on one side. “Love?” he asked, voice sleep-husky.  
  
Sanghyuk made a mental note to discuss that later. “Shower, then library,” Sanghyuk said simply, then let himself back out.  
  
Jaehwan would be at least fifteen minutes, and that was if he got out of bed immediately, so Sanghyuk let himself detour to the kitchen to peer into the fridge. Something in him eased when he saw their stock of blood bags had been replenished. Maybe Jaehwan had organized that, or maybe Wonshik had, but either way, Sanghyuk was glad for it.  
  
He grabbed two out of the fridge then wandered back into the hall, towards the library. Once there he settled himself on that same ugly green couch, putting the blood bags down on the coffee table. They were cold, from the fridge, and they’d made his hands cold as well. Sanghyuk looked longingly at the fireplace, thinking that if they were going to hold their sessions here, he might start making use of the damned thing.  
  
Sanghyuk sighed at the thought of the hours to come. He hadn’t been able to come by the previous night, and he could only hope that all he and Jaehwan had talked about before hadn’t been in vain, hope Jaehwan was still pliable. He didn’t have it in him to deal with trying to pry Jaehwan back open tonight.  
  
It took almost fifteen minutes exactly, but then the library door was opening and Jaehwan was shuffling in. He was dressed in black slacks, a cool grey button down that he’d left untucked. His bare feet made no noise on the floor, a touch that made Sanghyuk’s heart ache a little.   
  
“Good evening, love,” Jaehwan said, his voice somehow muffled by the vastness of the room.   
  
Sanghyuk fought not to wince at the use of the petname. “I brought some blood for you,” he said simply, glancing down at the blood bags on the coffee table. Jaehwan eyed them as well, with a sort of resigned look on his face, but he came over and picked one up, settling on the opposite end of the couch from Sanghyuk. He forewent sitting prim and proper, or even lounging carelessly as he often chose to, instead bringing his feet up and curling his legs beneath him.   
  
Sanghyuk examined his features as he poked into the blood bag and began to drink. The dark circles, the shadows in the hollows of his cheeks, were still there, but drastically less pronounced. He looked, almost, like his usual self.   
  
“You fed last night,” Sanghyuk said, lilting it slightly so it could be perceived as a question if needed.   
  
Jaehwan nodded. There was a burbling noise as he finished the blood bag and his straw had only air to suck up. He tossed the empty plastic container onto the table. “I knew feeding from you was off the table, and fairly desperately needed proper sustenance. I did not want to lose control when I knew you would be returning at some point soon.” He opened his mouth to say something more, but then apparently thought better of it. His mouth snapped shut and he shook his head, reaching for the second blood bag.  
  
“Are you the one who go the new blood bags too?” Sanghyuk asked.  
  
“Yes,” Jaehwan said, a little wearily. “What is this about, love?”  
  
Sanghyuk jerked. “Jaehwan,” he murmured, “you need to stop calling me that. I don’t think I need to explain why.”  
  
Jaehwan stared at him, and though his expression remained blank, Sanghyuk could see the pain in his eyes, the hurt. His hair was fanning over his face gently, and Sanghyuk wanted to push it aside, to soothe him, but he clutched his hands in his lap, refusing to move, to budge.   
  
Finally Jaehwan looked away. “It was just a silly little nickname.” His voice was the barest of whispers. “But I guess it became more. I— yes, I will stop.”  
  
Silence fell over them, and Sanghyuk swallowed thickly, trying to get his thoughts back in order. “I think it is best if we maintain distance,” he said softly, and Jaehwan nodded sharply, still looking down. “So— yeah, feeding is off the table too. Actually, I think— think touching should be off the table, full stop.”  
  
Jaehwan exhaled a shuddering breath, whispered, “Alright.”  
  
Sanghyuk eyed Jaehwan thoughtfully. “You’d say anything, wouldn’t you?” he asked softly, almost wonderingly. “You’d agree to anything so long as I keep coming around.”  
  
Jaehwan looked up then, and his expression was guilty and wretched and angry all at once. “I’m in love with you,” he said, and the words sounded like they were being grated out of him. “I feel less wretched, when I am with you.”  
  
Sanghyuk sighed. “Jaehwan— if you’re going to change, it has to be actual change, and not simply a mask you pull on so I stick around. That isn’t— isn’t how this works.”  
  
“Duly noted,” Jaehwan said sourly, sipping at his blood bag in what Sanghyuk could only call a sullen fashion.   
  
Sanghyuk watched him gulp down half the bag before he asked, “Are you ready?”  
  
“Ready for what?” Jaehwan asked around his straw.  
  
“To talk about what you said to me two nights ago,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan winced. “I know you don’t want to, Jaehwan, but I think you need to pour out all the poison you have inside you. And starting at the beginning might be easiest.”  
  
Jaehwan stared at the wall mutely for a long time, then brought the straw back up to his mouth, finishing off his blood and then carefully placing the empty bag on the table. “You’re right,” he finally murmured, “I do repress and then just— just lash out. I want to do it right now. I want you here but also want to— to hurt you so you stop poking at this.” He inhaled deeply, and Sanghyuk could see the muscles in his jaw tense as he grit his teeth. “Even though I know it needs to be done.”  
  
“Why is it so hard to talk about?” Sanghyuk asked, and Jaehwan sent him a rather sharp glare. “I’m not trying to— to belittle you, I am genuinely curious.”  
  
“I have spent three centuries burying every painful regret, heaping them one on top of the other, because I just— I can’t deal with it.”  
  
“But why?”  
  
Jaehwan’s face twisted in frustration. “I regret being turned.”  
  
“You said that before.”  
  
“No, you— you don’t understand—” Jaehwan said, shaking his head as he scowled. “I regret it but— I’m not allowed to regret it.”  
  
Sanghyuk frowned in confusion. “What?”  
  
“I asked to be turned. I wanted it,” Jaehwan explained. His hands were moving as he talked, growing agitated.  
  
“I don’t understand,” Sanghyuk said, his bewilderment bleeding into his voice.  
  
Jaehwan stood up, pacing away jerkily. “I lost everything,” he snapped out. “I— everything that ever brought me joy, my friends, my family, my music, my magic, my _life_ , I lost it all— by choice. Because I was stupid and young and thought I could have everything but I was wrong.” He turned back to Sanghyuk and Sanghyuk felt as if Jaehwan’s eyes were pinning him to the spot with intensity. “And I couldn’t look back, I couldn’t regret it— because if I did then how could I _live_ Sanghyuk? I have fucking eternity yawning ahead of me. It’s not something that can be fixed, it has no _solution_ —” Jaehwan cut himself off because his voice was getting high, hysterical. He gulped down some air, pressing his trembling hands to his stomach. “I can’t regret it. I’ll fall to pieces.”  
  
“Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said softly, “you’re already in pieces.”  
  
Jaehwan’s mouth twisted, lower lip trembling. “I— I wanted so much that I’ll never have,” he said thickly, “I gave it up because— you’ll laugh at me—”  
  
“I won’t,” Sanghyuk promised. He wanted to go to Jaehwan, to put hands on his shoulders and ground him, but he held himself back.  
  
“I turned because I wanted to better my magic, I wanted— wanted to be something great. I— I wanted children, wanted a family, but I gave it up because I thought I could make the world _better_.” He laughed, hollowly. “I was such a soft thing, a proper fop.”  
  
The idea of Jaehwan wanting a life, wanting children and a wife was so alien to Sanghyuk. “Do you still want children?”  
  
Even though Jaehwan was on the verge of tears, he still managed to wrinkle his nose in disgust, “No, not at all. I don’t— it’s not about everything I wanted, so much as it is about the life I lost for _nothing_.” Suddenly his eyes were blazing. “I woke up without magic. It died when I did. I— you’re not a sorcerer, so I have much difficulty imparting the impact of that. Imagine waking up one morning blind and deaf. I felt like everything was crashing down around me.”  
  
Sanghyuk could only imagine. To die for something, only to lose not only that purpose, but to have lost everything else in the process. “Nothing could be done?”  
  
“Oh, I tried, believe me, I did,” Jaehwan said. “I spent the better part of a century trying to figure out if I could revive it, or work around the whole dead thing, but—” He gestured around himself, as if to show a lack of magic.   
  
Sanghyuk watched him, feeling unusually somber. He wondered what his own face looked like, didn’t know what he should be doing or saying. “So what did you do?”  
  
Jaehwan frowned, seeming almost disdainful of the question. “All I could do was just— keep going,” he said. “And here I am.”  
  
 _Oh, oh Jaehwan_ , Sanghyuk thought sadly. “Jaehwan, you— you never let yourself grieve, did you?”  
  
“Grieve for what?” Jaehwan was definitely disdainful now.  
  
“Your own life,” Sanghyuk said, and Jaehwan’s mouth twisted. “You just— just shoved everything, every old piece of yourself into a dark corner and tried to pretend it wasn’t there, so you wouldn’t hurt—”  
  
“I told you, Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan said, harsh now, retreating back into sharpness to save himself, “how could I live if I was stuck regretting the decisions that led to my very existence now?”  
  
“You wouldn’t be stuck, Jaehwan. You’d grieve and it would hurt for a time but then you’d— move on,” Sanghyuk said, trying to keep his voice level. “Shoving it away and never dealing with it— it doesn’t make it go away, doesn’t make it not exist.”  
  
Jaehwan crossed his arms over his chest. “I guess I just never thought I could,” he whispered. “I— I did this to myself, after all. It is my fault.”  
  
“So you never deserve catharsis because you made a mistake?” Sanghyuk asked. Were Jaehwan more like Taekwoon, Sanghyuk would think he’d done this as some sort of self-flagellation, to punish himself. But he knew Jaehwan wasn’t the sort for that. He’d been trying to save himself, but going about it all wrong.  
  
“My master always said the human life wasn’t worth dwelling on,” Jaehwan muttered, seemingly very interested in examining the patterns on the carpet. “He said that your vampire birth was where you should truly begin. It— it seemed like good advice. I saw Taekwoon’s ruin, because he did nothing but grieve for his human life. I did not want to be that.”  
  
“Taekwoon was murdered against his will,” Sanghyuk said. “Which was your maker’s doing in the first place. And then you— he brushed off your own pain— he sounds like he abused you both in his own right, Jaehwan.”   
  
Jaehwan bristled, spat out, “My maker was the only thing that held me together, he kept me from falling to pieces after I’d lost my magic until I could hold myself up again. He— he showed me how to exist as a vampire.”  
  
Something Hakyeon had said came back to Sanghyuk, something about how part of why Taekwoon never liked Jaehwan was because Jaehwan sought to emulate their maker. Now, Sanghyuk could see he’d done it out of desperation, and from the loss of his own self. He’d had nothing, so he’d looked to their maker to fill the void.  
  
Their maker was an issue Sanghyuk was going to have to tackle another day. He sensed it was going to be a big one.  
  
For now, Sanghyuk held his hands up in a gesture of peace. “I’m not trying to pick a fight, Jaehwan,” he murmured, and the antagonism left Jaehwan’s frame, leaving his shoulders slumping. He came back over to the couch and plopped down onto it, rubbing at his face wearily. “Would you reverse the change, if you could?”  
  
Jaehwan looked at him, frowning a little. “Like, go back in time and not change at all? Or reverse it now?”  
  
Sanghyuk shrugged. “Either.”  
  
“I—” Jaehwan stopped to think. “No. I am too changed, to go back and live the life I lost. Or start a new one. I am no longer human in any sense. And I do, in many ways, enjoy being vampire.” He smiled a little. “I suppose that makes me snivelling over having turned all the more nonsensical, doesn’t it?”  
  
“Not really,” Sanghyuk said, “we can regret decisions, actions, while also knowing it is too late to undo them, even if the chance was given. It doesn’t take away the pain felt at things lost.”  
  
“I don’t even— I can’t remember what my families’ faces looked like,” Jaehwan murmured. “And I don’t miss them, I just— I remember what it felt like to miss them, I suppose. I just have this dull ache in me over old memories that I can’t even fully recall anymore.”  
  
“What magical stuff were you working on that made you turn, Jaehwan?” Sanghyuk asked, to keep the conversation going because Jaehwan had trailed off in thought.  
  
“Blood magic,” Jaehwan said with a smile that was slightly fangy. “I was researching weres and vamps.”  
  
Sanghyuk squinted. “I have a feeling you would have died very young, if you hadn’t turned. Like, properly died.”  
  
Jaehwan chuckled. “Probably.” He was still lost in his thoughts. Maybe that was good. Sanghyuk rather thought he probably needed to think about all the shit he had been avoiding. And he seemed to have calmed down some.  
  
“I need to go to work,” Sanghyuk said gently, and Jaehwan gave him a betrayed look. “I think you need some time, too.”  
  
“Maybe,” Jaehwan muttered. He looked lost, suddenly. “What do I _do_ with all this?”  
  
“I think just acknowledging it is all there is a big step,” Sanghyuk mused. “But beyond that I think you also need to— let yourself feel, Jaehwan.” His voice lowered, and again, he had to fight down the urge to touch Jaehwan, to grab his hand. They were sitting on the same couch, so close. “You’ve fallen to pieces and have nothing more to lose. And, Jaehwan— you’re allowed to regret your decision, while simultaneously realizing that it doesn’t mean you can’t move forward. You _can’t_ change it, like you said, so all you can do is go forward. But that doesn’t mean you can’t grieve for what you lost along the way.” He stood, to put some space between them. “You need to put it to rest, before you can stop hurting.”  
  
Jaehwan swallowed thickly. “You sound like a fortune cookie,” he said, a bit croakily. “Next you’ll be telling me what my lucky numbers are or— or how to say cucumber in Chinese.”  
  
Sanghyuk took another step back. “Thank you,” he said, “for telling me. For not lashing out.”  
  
“I cannot promise the trend will continue,” Jaehwan said, looking up through his bangs. “It— it was harder than you know.”  
  
“It made it real,” Sanghyuk whispered and Jaehwan flinched back. “I almost admire you, Jaehwan. Staying in denial for three hundred years is quite a feat.”  
  
“I never do anything by halves,” Jaehwan said, affecting a haughty tone, though it was watered down. He stood, heading for the door. “I’ll see you out, love—” He caught himself, a spasm of pain crossing his face. “Sanghyuk.”  
  
 _He’s going to cry once I am gone_ , Sanghyuk realized. He could see Jaehwan clutching his composure together by his nails, the tattered remnants of his pride not allowing him to weep in front of Sanghyuk again.   
  
They walked through the house in silence, Sanghyuk hoping Jaehwan would be able to gather himself a bit. He waited to speak right up until they were at the front door. “Would you—” he began, then forged ahead, “would you like me to come back in a couple of days, or do you want to wait for you to come to me?”  
  
Jaehwan stared at him, clearly not in a good place mentally to be making decisions. “I— wait for me,” he said. “If I do not come by in— three nights? Come visit.” Jaehwan opened the door for him, stepped aside.  
  
“Okay,” Sanghyuk said, stepping forward. He reached out to touch Jaehwan, but then snatched his hand back, turning and going through the door quickly. Jaehwan watched the movement blankly. “I’ll see you soon, Jaehwan. We’ll talk more then.”  
  
Jaehwan’s eyes were unreadable. “I regret the things I lost when I turned that I didn’t need to.” He paused. “The things I threw away because they hurt.”  
  
Sanghyuk swallowed thickly. “Next time, if you’re ready, we can talk about it.”  
  
The door shut quietly in Sanghyuk’s face.


End file.
